So it's been over a year, but I reread this story, and I really feel like I owe you guys a sequel. Yes, nerdy Willow. Yes in the library. She's at the very end of her freshman year (15), so ye hath been warned, this sex isn't quite legal. Leans toward consensual non-con. Is that a thing? She ain't complainin', but she's all magicked up, so.

The last day of school was officially the worst day of the year… Well, at least it was for Willow Rosenberg. It meant no classes for three months, and unlike Xander she couldn't even use her grades as an excuse for summer school. She was a freshman, so she didn't even have any summer assignments. Just a reading list of six measly books, five of which she'd read years ago. Still, as the final bell for the day went, she ventured into the library to pick up her assigned reading. Willow walked against the flow of students scrambling for the doors and the freedom of summer, her head bowed and eyes shaded by curtains of long mousy hair. People crashed into her over and over, they didn't really see her, not around here. They were focused on getting out, she was just dreading having to leave.

She pushed open the big double doors to the library. Willow wasn't really sure if she was supposed to be in here, the new librarian had been moving in these last few days and he seemed very reclusive. The few times she'd caught a glimpse of him, he'd been hurrying along balancing stacks of ancient books or polishing his glasses. She gasped as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The bookcases lining the walls had been moved into rows of shelves, with little nooks filled with cushions. But you could barely see the big windows because none of the books were shelved yet, they rested in towering piles all through the library. Suddenly, there was a loud crash, a cascade of books and an expletive, very British "bloody hell" from one of the walls.
"Um… is everything… is everything alright, sir?" Willow walked forward gingerly, trying not to touch the teeter-y stacks of books, and looked nervously into the book cage. There was a man in a tweed suit standing with his back to her, books littered around his feet.

"Bloody brilliant," he muttered, "Giles you fool… yes I'm sorry, miss," he started to turn around, righting his round glasses on his nose, "just having some organisational diffi-" his eyes widened and he pushed his glasses further up his nose, taking a step toward her. His eyes raked her body.
"Um, Mr…" Willow petered off, feeling definitively awkward under his scrutiny-ish gaze.
He shook his head quickly, "Uh, G-Giles," the librarian blustered. "Mr Giles."
"Mr Giles, I'm here to collect my summer reading…" Willow averted her eyes nervously, licking her lips. Her heart was all pound-y, though she didn't know why and his eyes were roaming her face now.
"Of course you are," he breathed, "Miss, uh?"
"Rosenberg," she filled in, "Willow Rosenberg."
"Willow." Turning away, he reached toward the back of the cage, taking a thick, heavy volume into his hands and coming to face her again. "You don't know yet…"
"I'm not knowing what?" Her big, orb-like eyes widened, and for an instance Giles couldn't believe that they could ever be inky black, that her tiny, floral little body could ever – would ever! – be possessed by the black arts the way that addict was, more than twenty years ago in the forest.
"That I remember you."

Willow had never felt anything like it, not in fifteen years. As he pushed the book into her hands and their fingers brushed, her whole body pulsed. She felt a current run through her, deeper than arousal or excitement. It wasn't in her blood, it was in her, in her soul, if she believed that sort of thing. It was dark, scary… a little electrifying. For the first, but certainly not the last time, Willow Rosenberg wanted more.

And more he gave her. Her eyes darkened, shades of night under copper lashes, and a gradual ash spread through her hair. She was vibrating, and he was allowing the power he'd saved in that tome, 25 years of pent up magic, black, nasty, dirty, delicious magic, pour into her fragile little body.
Finally he dropped the book, and her ink-black eyes met his. Slowly, with more confidence than she'd ever had before, she placed her hand square in the middle of his chest, "you remembered me, Ripper…" and as she shared her energy, his eyes began to mirror her own.
"Fuck me."

He pulled her into his arms, hand already reaching up under her dinky little plaid skirt. His fingers burned her, literally, and as he grazed her underwear they melted away. Liquid dribbled down her thighs, and the librarian ground the bulge in his trousers against her thigh. She grabbed him roughly, unzipping him in a swift motion.
Willow had no idea what she was doing.
But there was no way in heck she was stopping.
Within seconds, his dick was buried in her pussy and she was keening, shivering against him as each thrust sent waves of pleasure and more sinister pulses of dark energy through her body. One-handed, he pulled his belt from his trousers and wrapped it around her wrists, quickly fastening them to the slats of the book cage as she panted. She tugged against the restraints.
"You know how to get out of them," he whispered.
"I do," she repeated, and with a flick of her wrist and a crackle of magic, their positions were reversed. His hands were bound to the book cage, bare ass on the floor while she rode him mercilessly.
"Giddy-up," she whispered, and shuddered her release around him.
With a burst of light, his belt vanished and he clutched her ass as he came hard.

And suddenly she was mousy again. Her eyes were big green orbs and her hair was straggly with sweat and tangled. She slid off him, shocked, confused… satisfied. That was so wrong. She just… she just… you know… with a teacher! A freaky magic teacher and holy moly what the hell had she just done, why the hell did it feel so good and what in God's name made her want to feel that way again? She reeled back, looking at him, what had just happened? Well, the sex, she understood that bit, but the other…?
Giles hastily pulled up his trousers, and slid closer to the confused young woman. He placed his hand on hers, giving her the last dregs of magic he had left.
"Forget."

For now.